Silence is the language of God

A couple of weekends ago, I attended a women’s retreat with more than 80 others at St. Paul of the Cross Retreat and Conference Center in Detroit.

I’ve been on several self-directed, silent retreats before, where, believe it or not, I did not speak for more than 40 hours from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon. This retreat was different. It had an agenda which included prayer services, teaching from various speakers, and mass. We were expected to remain silent only between the planned sessions. At meal times we were free to let loose, and, man, did we ever. The cafeteria was anything but silent!

Why all the silence, you ask?

Silence is the language of God

Most mystics and contemplatives would say that if you want to hear from God, you must shut your mouth and listen. God can and does communicate with us in many ways. We might hear God’s voice through the written word, the kindness of a friend, music that reaches our soul, an unexpected encounter, trauma or tragedy, answered prayer and even the mundane moments of everyday life. But silence allows us to quiet our hearts to hear the “still small voice,” or gentle whisper, that is God’s voice (I Kings 19:12). As the Persian poet Rumi so eloquently said, Silence is the language of God; all else is poor translation.

Meditating on a prophecy fulfilled

At the Saturday evening session, Father Phil opened his Bible to read Luke 4:1-21, where Jesus reads from the scroll of Isaiah (61:1-2) in the synagogue at Nazareth. A tall, middle-aged man who was an engineer before becoming a priest, he encouraged us to close our eyes and imagine ourselves in the biblical setting as he read:

“‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released, that the blind will see, that the oppressed will be set free, and that the time of the Lord’s favor has come.’ He rolled up the scroll, handed it back to the attendant, and sat down. All eyes in the synagogue looked at him intently. Then he began to speak to them. “The Scripture you’ve just heard has been fulfilled this very day!”

Father Phil closed the book and moved quietly from the podium to the center of the chapel.

“Imagine what it must have been like to hear Jesus proclaiming himself to be the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy of the coming Messiah,” he said. “Let’s take some time to meditate on this passage and the fulfilling work of Christ in our lives today.”

Then he walked slowly to his chair and sat down.

Too silent for comfort

While strong winds roared outside the dimly lit chapel, silence fell on us like a soft, warm shawl. Dozens of women sitting side by side in pews designed for two were quiet and still. With eyes closed and our minds fixed on the Scripture, we were alone, and yet one, in our thoughts.

Until the silence became too loud.

It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes into the quiet when a woman cleared her throat. Seconds later, another woman shifted not so quietly in her seat, and shortly after that, someone else coughed. More shuffling of the feet.

I couldn’t help but chuckle (silently, of course) at what sounded like the slow unfolding of a melody composed by the anxiety from too much quiet. Like an altar boy snuffing out candle flames when the Mass has ended, the coughing, sniffling and fidgeting doused the flickering spell of silence.

Ready or not, Father Phil stood up and moved back to the center of the chapel. He encouraged us to continue our meditation on the incredible reality that Jesus’ words, spoken more than 2000 years ago, are still true today. After receiving the benediction, we all walked in silence to our rooms for the night.

The power of silence

For most people, remaining quiet in a quiet place for even a short time is challenging. Just as awkward moments of silence in a conversation unnerve us and compel us to say something, the quiet required for meditation can be difficult to bear.  It’s tempting to fill the space in our minds with noise or distracting movements rather than sit quietly and listening for what the silence may hold for us.

St. John of the Cross understood the transforming power of silence. He said, “It is best to learn to silence the faculties and to cause them to be still so that God may speak.” Mother Teresa knew how important it was to our spiritual growth. “We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness,” she said. “God is the friend of silence. See how nature — trees, flowers, grass — grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence… We need silence to be able to touch souls.”

God reaches through the silence

I’ve got to admit I had a tough time silencing my faculties that weekend. Though I was in the quiet of my room, the thoughts running through my mind were loud and bothersome. I couldn’t seem to focus on any one thing for very long. My struggle didn’t seem to bother God; he spoke to me in other ways. I felt God elbowing me to listen up as some of the women around me shared their experiences of loss and healing. I heard God’s spirit as I listened to the ancient liturgies echoing God’s faithfulness. By Sunday morning, I was relaxed and felt refreshed.

The silence made that possible.